


Feel

by ahatedgoodbye



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahatedgoodbye/pseuds/ahatedgoodbye
Summary: Al is scared he’s losing himself. He desperately needs to feel again, but what if he’s gone too far?





	Feel

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a prompt on tumblr and this just popped into my head. Please keep in mind this is based off of my personal experiences with dissociation and self-harm, and I understand people experience these things in different ways. STRONG TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: Dissociation, Depression, Self Harm and Suicide. Mild Trigger warnings for PTSD, anxiety, and panic.

Al had been walking around Resembool for what felt like forever. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been, or what had made him go for a walk in the first place, only that he wanted to go home. He kept telling himself to take the turn, to walk down the dirt road back to the Rockbell’s, but no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t. He just kept walking around the town, watching his body function like it was on autopilot. He had no control of what he was doing. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t fight it either. He wanted to, but he just _couldn’t_.

It had been a couple months since he had gotten his body back, and though they had been making progress, his strength was still pretty far from where it should be. He sat down on a bench by the train station, but it wasn’t him that chose to sit down. He still didn’t fight it, he just watched it happen. He was thankful for the rest, but he was starting to get scared. Why couldn’t he go home? Why did it feel like he was watching his body do things without him? As the thought crossed his mind, his heart sank.

What if he had been separated for too long? What if his soul was being rejected by his body?

No sooner had the questions passed through his head, it started to rain. He watched the drops hit his skin, but he just felt numb. It was similar to how the rain felt on his armor, but he could feel the cold around him. He started to panic. He could feel himself getting farther from his body, losing more control of it, only able to watch it happen. He could see the rise and fall of his chest speeding up, mimicking how he felt his breathing was. He didn’t care now, he just needed to feel something. _Anything._ Thankfully, his body agreed with him, and he started walking home. His face tilted upwards, but he still couldn’t quite feel the drops. His pace quickened, and he knew his muscles were supposed to be aching, but it didn’t slow him.

He reached the Rockbell residence much faster than he should have. Granny had taken a house call in the next village over and would be gone for another night. Edward and Winry were finishing up the supper preparations for the three of them. When they heard the door, they both looked up.

“Hey Al,” Ed greeted him, relief evident in his voice. “Where were ya? We were just about to send the search party.” He half-joked.

“Just on a walk. I’m tired now. Going to bed.” Al replied mechanically.

“You don’t want supper?” Ed asked, now visibly concerned. Al hadn’t missed a single meal since getting his body back.

“No. Good night.” Al responded, not offering an explanation. He was almost to the top of the stairs when Ed called out to him.

“Hey Al.” Al turned to face Ed, who was now at the bottom of the stairs. “What's up?” Al paused, debating for a moment whether or not to tell his brother what was going on.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Good night.” He responded, forcing a smile.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Ed responded in a tone that implied he wasn’t totally convinced, but was willing to respect his brother's privacy. Al nodded and continued up the stairs.

He made his way up to the bathroom, turned the light on, closed the door and locked it. He shrugged off his coat and reached for his brother’s razer that was sitting on the counter. He flipped it open and examined it. It was a single blade with a wooden handle. The blade was shinier than usual, indicating that it had been recently sharpened. His body was shaking now, and Al chalked it up to the cold, though he still couldn’t quite feel it.

Al sat in the bathtub, knees tucked into his chest and back against the side of the tub. He raised the blade to his arm. His hand was unsteady, and he rested the blade a few inches below his wrist to settle it. He couldn’t feel the metal of the blade despite the shake his hand had, and tears started welling in his eyes. He didn’t want to lose his soul. He didn’t want to be rejected by his own body. He worked so hard to get it back. He could finally feel again, feel the warmth, the cold, the hunger, the tiredness…the pain. All of these feelings that had been missing for so long, he wasn’t about to lose them again.

He was going to feel whether his body wanted it or not. He needed to be strong enough to pull his soul back.

The tears fell as he pressed the blade into his arm. The pain was surprising. Different. He hadn’t felt real pain since his body had been taken from him, and it was somehow both stronger and not as strong as he had expected it to be. He knew that it hurt, and it hurt a lot, but he still didn’t feel like it was there. He could actually feel _something_ , however, so he pressed harder, dragging the blade down a couple inches before pulling it out. He watched the blood well up in the cut, pooling at the end quickly before spilling over and down his arm. He started again, parallel to the first one, and this time it hurt a lot more. The streams of blood met and started dripping on the bathtub floor. He watched them for a moment before returning his attention to the blade.  
He was in control of the blade now, and he could feel the grit of his skin underneath the blade. He started a third cut, focusing on the pain, how he could feel it, how it real it was. He could control this agony. He could finally control how he felt. Relief mixed with the pain, and he started again. Again. Again…the pain was excruciating, and Al loved feeling it. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel this connected with his body. He had thought he lost the connection forever. Now he knew his soul wasn’t being rejected anymore, because a rejected soul couldn’t feel this. He didn’t know how long he sat there, just feeling. He realized too late that he getting light headed. He tried to stand up to wash off the razor, but the motion was too quick and his vision went white. He heard a knock on the door right just as everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

Edward and Winry ate dinner in silence. Ed was mulling the conversation he had with his brother over in his mind. Ed was worried about his brother, but he trusted Alphonse to come to him if he needed anything. Edward knew that Al was the type to suffer in silence, not wanting to burden others with his problems. But they had been together for so long. They had been through almost everything together. Fuck, they had taken down GOD together. Al knew that Ed would do anything for him, so he would come to him when he was struggling.

Right? 

After dinner, Ed made up a plate for Al. He walked up the stairs and knocked lightly on Al’s door. He listened for a few moments, and when he didn’t hear a response he quietly opened the door, peeking inside. Alphonse’s bed was still neatly made, and Al was nowhere to be seen. Edward noticed Al’s coat wasn’t on the hook, and he furrowed his brow. He turned back and looked at the bathroom, where he noticed the light shining underneath the door. ‘Al must have decided to take a bath.’ He thought, smiling to himself. ‘Good for him to be taking care of himself.’ Ed walking over and knocking on the door, not as lightly this time.

“Hey Al, I made you a plate of food in case you changed your mind.” No response. Ed swears, if Al passed out in the bath, or better, on the toilet, he was never going to let him live it down. He knocked louder.

“Al, Did you fall asleep on the toilet? C’mon man, wake up.” Still no response. Ed was getting worried now. He pounded on the door. 

“Alphonse, if you don’t answer me, I will break down this goddamn door.” Ed threatened, worry lacing his voice. No response. Ed tried the handle, but it was locked.

“Al, you have one more chance to answer me before I’m breaking this door.” Ed demanded. Still no answer. Ed sighed, planting his right foot into the ground and driving his heel forward next to the door handle. The door splintered easily with the force of his automail and crashed inward, sending wooden pieces flying. He looked around the room, and when he focused on the bathtub, his heart stopped. The plate fell to the ground and shattered.

_No. No, no, Oh my god…Al please no!_

Al was laying there, white as a ghost and unconscious in a pool of blood. Edward’s razor was inches away from his hand, open and bloodied.

“ALPHONSE!” Edward screamed, rushing to pull his baby brother out of the tub. His vision blurred as realized how much damage had been done…how much damage Al had done to himself. “No, no, no..” he chanted, tears spilling over. “WINRY GET UP HERE NOW!” he cried.

Winry came running up the stairs and gasped as she got to the bathroom. “Oh…oh my god.” She whispered. The image of Al holding Ed in her doorway, bloodied and unconscious flashed in her mind and she stumbled backwards. 

“Please, you have to do something,” Edward choked through tears, and Winry could almost swear she heard Alphonse’s voice saying it. She snapped back into the present and tried to fight through the panic, through the images that had been burned into her brain forever.

“Get him down to the OR.” She told him. Ed nodded, picking up Al’s limp body and heading down the stairs in a hurry. Winry grabbed a hair tie from the counter on the bathroom and followed, tying her hair up as she went.

They got down to the Rockbell’s operating room and Ed laid his brother down on the table. Winry washed her hands and put on a pair of gloves and instructed Ed to do the same. She turned and went to the drawers, grabbing the necessary equipment for cleaning and suturing the wounds. She tossed a towel at Edward.

“Clean up as much of the blood on his arm as you can.” Ed nodded. Winry set up the operating equipment and moved in as Ed finished. She examined the cuts. They were clean, but they were deep. She wasn’t sure what Al’s goal was, but they were lucky. Both that Edward had gotten there when he did, and that Al had missed his artery. A millimeter to the left and she’s not sure if he would have made it. She grabbed the needle, taking a breath to steady herself. She was an automail surgeon, stitches were part of her job, but she much preferred leaving them to Granny. Granny was much more skilled with the medical aspects of automail and though Winry had been studying under her for a long time, she had always preferred the mechanical side of things. There was no time for that, though, and she got to work.

 

* * *

 

 

After a couple hours and numerous stiches, they had managed to stop the bleeding. They dressed the wound, cleaned the rest of the blood and Ed carried Al back to his bed. After he changed Al into some clean clothes, Ed tucked him in. There were no chairs in Al’s room, so he went downstairs to grab a chair that he could bring upstairs. Winry was already sitting at the table, waiting for him. Ed slumped in the chair next to her, propping his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

“After everything we’ve gone through. After everything we’ve done to get him back.” Ed whispered, tears threatening to spill again. “I don’t understand it Winry. Why would he try and _kill himself_?” At the last two words, he broke, sobs wracking through his body. Winry shifted her chair so she could rub his back.

“We don’t know that’s what he wanted-” she started, but she was interrupted by Ed’s fist slamming down on the table.

“WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WOULD IT BE?” he snapped, standing abruptly. “DO YOU THINK HE DID THAT FOR FUN?”

“Of course not.” She replied calmly, but she, too, was shaking. “Al has been going through a lot of new feelings recently. Maybe something happened. Maybe he needed to feel something different.”

“That’s bullshit. You saw how much blood there was there. If he wanted to feel pain, or whatever, he could have asked me to spar. He didn’t need to put himself on the brink of _death_ just to feel.”

“You know how Al is. He probably didn’t want you to know he was suffering. It would have been odd to ask to spar in the rain. You would have known something was up.” She tried to console him.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Edward’s voice broke again. “What’s wrong with me knowing that he’s not okay?” He slumped back in the chair, resuming his previous position with his head in his hands. “Why won’t he talk to me? I should have pushed it.”

“Hey now,” Winry replied sternly. “Don’t you dare blame this on yourself. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. Al goes for walks like that all the time. It’s good for him to get his strength back up.”

“He had never gone for more than a couple hours. I think his longest was two and a half, maybe three. He was gone for six hours today, Winry. Six. Hours. That should have been a clue.”

“He could have been training or working on his stamina. Maybe he lost track of time at the graves. It could have been a number of things, Edward.” Ed didn’t respond. “Hey, look at me. Please.” Ed reluctantly raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Winry met them without flinching. “This wasn’t your fault.” She repeated, keeping her tone stern but her eyes were soft. They stared at each other for a short while before finally, Ed nodded slowly, breaking the stare. Winry got up to grab him a tissue. He took it, uttering a soft ‘thanks’ and dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose. He grabbed the chair from the kitchen and the box of tissues and headed up the stairs. 

“Hey,” Winry stopped him before he reached the top. “You know you can talk to me too, right?” Ed nodded slowly again, smiling sadly at her. He turned and headed up the stairs. Winry watched him leave, then sighed, heading down to clean up the mess in the basement.

 

* * *

 

 

When Al woke, he was in his bed. He sat up, flinching when he shifted his weight to his left arm. The sharp pain brought back memories from the previous night. He examined the bandages on his arm, his heart sinking. Who had found him like that?

What- _what had he done_?

He looked around the familiar surroundings of his room, only then noticing the chair in the corner – and the person sitting in it. He met his brother’s eyes hesitantly, and he flinched when he took in Edward’s appearance. Ed’s face was expressionless, betraying nothing to how he felt, but the signs were unmistakable. His eyes were red-rimmed, swollen and bloodshot. His nose and cheeks were red, having been dried over and over through the previous night. The brothers stared at each other like that for an eternity. They broke the silence mutually.

“Brother, I-”

“Al…. _why?”_

Al looked down at his hands. His bottom lip trembled as he confessed, “I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?” Ed started to raise his voice. He took a deep breath to regain control of it. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I found you there? How terrified I was? Al, you almost _died._ If Winry hadn’t been there, I…I don’t know what would have happened. You were bleeding so bad-” Ed’s voice broke, and the next words came out as a whisper. “There was so much blood Al… you were so pale. I thought I had lost you. I thought, because I was so damn blind not to notice how bad you were struggling, that I had lost you again.”

“No brother, it’s not like that!” Al exclaimed, turning to look at Edward. Ed’s face contorted with anger and pain and he took another breath to regain control. He opened his mouth but Al continued, “Something happened to me. I don’t know…I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Then try, Al. _Please_. I need more than an ‘I don’t know’. I promise I’ll do everything I can to understand you, to help you Al, please, just _talk to me.”_ With the last words, Ed’s control broke and the next words came out as a sob. “You don’t need to handle everything on your own. Why won’t you let me help?”

Seeing his brother cry, Al’s heart shattered. Tears welled in his eyes but he didn’t try to push them down. “I’m sorry brother. I didn’t mean it.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought I had lost control, that I had lost the connection between my soul and my body. After everything you sacrificed to bring me back, I thought that I wasn’t strong enough to keep a hold on my soul.” The tears spilled but Al kept his voice steady. “When I was out yesterday, I couldn’t control what I was doing. I wanted to go home but I just kept walking. I lost feeling, I couldn’t feel the rain on my skin, or the cold. It was around me, but I couldn’t feel it. It felt like I was watching myself work on autopilot and I just couldn’t get my body back.” Al was trembling now, his voice shaking. “I thought my soul was being rejected. I thought I had spent so long separated from my body that my soul couldn’t hold on anymore. I just needed to feel something, brother. Something strong.” Recalling his fear, he started crying again.

“When I did it, it hurt so bad, but I could _feel_ it. It felt so real. I could hold on to it. It felt so good to feel real again. I didn’t mean to go that far. I promise I didn’t. I just…I guess I got caught up in how much it hurt, and how real it felt. I’m so sorry brother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He chanted, and Ed sat on the bed to pull his brother into his arms. Al turned and sobbed into Edward’s chest. They sat there for a while, holding each other. When Al’s sobs stopped, and his breathing calmed slightly, Ed pulled away and turned to face his brother. He met Al’s eyes with intensity.

“Promise me you will _never_ do that again. Promise me that if you’re feeling off, you’ll come to me. Promise me that if you’re not sure what’s going on, you’ll ask me. Promise me that you will talk to me. _Promise_ me, Al.”

Al nodded. “I promise, brother.”

Ed pulled his brother into his arms again, holding him tightly. “I will do anything for you, Al. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

Feeling Edward holding him, Al knew then that the one thing stronger than feeling pain was feeling love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you experience feelings like Al, please don't be afraid to ask for help. There are people out there that want to help, even if it doesn't seem like it. No one handles everything on their own.
> 
> 1-800-273-8255


End file.
